Chapter 400

In the biological laboratory of Stark Tower, Peter was staring blankly at a pile of hay on his desk when Connors walked over and asked, "What's wrong? Why are you always zoning out lately?"

"And what are these? Didn't I tell you not to bring all that junk into the lab?"

"These aren't junk—I'm running an experiment…"

"Oh? What kind of experiment?" Connors asked, removing his gloves as Peter stared dazedly at the messy hay before him. "Earlier, in… a dream, I saw them using strange materials combined with magic to brew miraculous potions."

"Some could knock someone unconscious instantly, others could cure a cold right away. I heard the teachers there say some potions could make a person lucky—or even extend their lifespan."

"I wondered: if reality has materials and reality has magic too, why can't we brew such potions here?"

Connors adjusted his glasses and said, "Peter, imagination is a good thing."

He walked over, fiddled with the hay Peter had arranged, and added, "But you can't expect these things to magically turn into the potions you described—even if magic existed, I doubt it would work."

You're right—I realized that too. I had Mr. Stark use his magical energy core to energize these materials, but they showed absolutely no reaction.

The Daily Moon and Sun Splendor

Mr. Stark said magic seems to require something called… affinity? If the material isn't special, magic won't react with it.

Peter leaned his elbows on the table, propping his chin in his hands. "Looks like I oversimplified things. No matter how vivid the dream, it's still just a dream—reality has too many problems."

Seeing Peter's disappointment, Connors sat beside him, gazing at the hay without mockery. "If you have such an idea, think harder about other paths to realize it—not blame your own thoughts for being too strange."

"Think of the great scientists who first proposed their ideas—they were called delusional, mocked as dreamers."

"Yet in the end, they turned dreams into reality and built today's scientific world. Greatness always begins as a laughable impossibility, doesn't it?"

Peter turned to Connors, who stood up and said, "Peter, I've told you before: your brilliant mind can change this world more than Spider-Man ever could."

"Though I often say you're more than just Spider-Man, Spider-Man is you—Peter is Spider-Man, Spider-Man is Peter."

"You pour effort into saving the citizens of New York City—patrolling daily, training your combat skills, joining superhero teams, completing countless missions…"

"What if you applied that same determination to realizing these ideas of yours? You might make astonishing progress."

Connors left. Peter sat alone before the lab bench, staring at the thin, hasty pile of hay, murmuring softly: "Peter is Spider-Man, Spider-Man is Peter…"

At noon, in Stark Tower's cafeteria, Shearer and Stark sat at the same table eating. Midway through his meal, Shearer looked up and noticed Stark staring at his plate. "What's wrong?"

He glanced at Stark's plate—filled with food—and asked, "Why aren't you eating your own? Why stare at mine?"

Stark sighed, looking at Shearer's chaotic meal. "You have no idea how relieved I am. When you picked up that beef patty just now, my heart nearly stopped."

"What's wrong with the beef patty? Because of the recent mad cow disease rumors out west?"

"Of course not. Remember your other personality? He always moves a round object around his plate. Honestly, that's the only way I tell which one of you is speaking."

"No wonder you removed me from Stark Tower's cafeteria blacklist…"

"You planning to eat this place bare again? I'm telling you—it won't happen. To prevent it, I've stockpiled more food than you can imagine!"

Shearer cut his beef patty, took a bite, and said, "Oh? I wasn't planning to, but now you've made me curious. Can I come back for dinner? Bring Peter and that yellow-haired rat too."

"No!" Stark snapped. He tapped his fork against the plate. "Seriously—what's going on with that personality? Who's the real one…?"

"What if I told you neither of us is the original?"

Stark froze, fork still in his mouth. After a moment, he sighed. "Before, I might've been shocked. But since I've been dreaming about that magic school game inside your mind palace these past few nights, it feels normal."

"How's your progress? I haven't checked lately. Want another new loot bundle?"

"No!" Stark refused again, ticking off items. "I joined Ravenclaw's reading circle and aced every quiz. Lately I've been fascinated by alchemy—but the school offers no course on it."

"Peter's situation you know best—he excels in Potions, plays Quidditch well. He's naturally built for flying—he's rumored to be this year's top Seeker."

"Steve became a Beater, but I think he should be a Keeper. He's popular in Hufflepuff—you know, the whole 'helpful guy' thing."

"As for Strange, I don't get Slytherin. Feels like a bunch of weirdos huddled together plotting dark conspiracies—but Strange gets along with them just fine."

"Steve and I joined just to have a good dream—studying in a castle-like magic school beats dreaming about being chased. But Peter and Strange clearly have their own ideas about this world."

"Peter's fascinated by Potions. Strange is obsessed with wands. I bet they'll research both in reality."

"Do you think they'll succeed?" Shearer asked.

"There'll be plenty of initial difficulties," Stark, a seasoned scientist, judged. "Potions and wands sound absurd in reality. But I believe they'll yield good results—many scientific breakthroughs began as absurd dreams."

Stark fiddled with his food. "Most people think the most important trait for a scientist is rigor. The public sees scientists as stiff, bookish nerds."

"But to reach the pinnacle, creativity matters most. Sometimes, wild, dreamlike associations—seemingly baseless—are the key to major progress."

"If you lack the courage to imagine, you've lost humanity's most precious quality."

At that moment, Stark's phone rang. He heard Peter's excited voice: "Mr. Stark! Come quick—you won't believe what I found!"

After hanging up, Stark tapped a few keys. Shearer looked at him. "You didn't give him that magical energy core, did you?"

"I trust Peter's judgment. I know he won't misuse it." Stark stood, then glanced at Shearer with a raised eyebrow. "I know you only twist lightbulbs—but wanna come see?"

When they entered the lab, they found Peter holding a pot—but it was empty. All three leaned in, staring. Stark asked, "So… what are you showing me?"

Oh, I forgot—it hasn't sprouted yet! Peter set the pot down, then picked up a small transparent bag filled with seed-like objects. "Mr. Stark, I exposed these seeds to your magical energy core. They've definitely changed."

"I don't know why magic doesn't affect fully grown flowers—but it works on seeds…"

"Because of conceptual differences." A voice suddenly appeared. A portal opened midair; Strange stepped through, pointed at Peter, and said, "We thought of the same thing."

"The concept of a seed in magic is complex—it represents new life, sprouting, germination, hope. At a higher level, it symbolizes the origin of all life—something with special significance in magic."

Stark waved his hand impatiently. "Here we go again—more mystical concepts."

He turned to Strange. "Seeds have concepts? What about flowers?"

Strange shook his head. "It depends on which concepts are more widely used in the universe. Clearly, concepts like new life, hope, light align better with orderly beings. These concepts, extracted from the cosmic source, exert greater influence."

"Flowers, trees—maybe they have some effect too, but minor. The exact mechanism? You wouldn't want to hear it. But it's essentially a rule-like concept."

Strange turned his gaze to the small pot Peter had placed on the table. He picked it up and asked, "Have you planted the seeds yet?"

"Yes."

"What kind of flower?"

"Sunflowers. The nearby florist had seeds, so I bought some."

Strange suddenly produced a strange gemstone. "Now, let's speed things up—see what grows…"

Magic flared from his hand, spreading over the pot. In their astonishment, a sprout broke through the soil, and within moments, a tiny sunflower seedling stood tall.

"So… where's the sunflower?" Stark crossed his arms, staring at the pot.

"I can't accelerate too much—it might cause unpredictable dangers. But even without flowers, we can see plenty."

"Ah…" Strange sighed. "You probably can't see it, but faint magical energy surrounds it—concentrated entirely at the roots. The upper part has none…"

"Why?" Peter frowned at the plant. "And I don't see any physical changes. The seeds glowed—clearly they changed a lot."

"Magic isn't that simple," Strange said. "We only have a preliminary idea. How to actually achieve it? We've got a long way to go."

Another voice spoke up: "Have you considered the plant itself? Herbaceous and woody plants differ. Angiosperms and gymnosperms aren't the same…"

Connors entered the lab, closed the door behind him. Strange glanced at Connors, then at the pot in his hand, and said:

"The expert's here."